


Dream, Dream, Dream

by ThreeWhiskeyLunch



Series: Dreamland [5]
Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: M/M, Rings and Things, War is hell, fluffy feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-08
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-12-25 08:36:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12032178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThreeWhiskeyLunch/pseuds/ThreeWhiskeyLunch
Summary: Kaidan wants to open his Christmas present in the middle of a war. Shepard can't say no to Kaidan. Ever.





	Dream, Dream, Dream

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for what was in the box from The 12 Days of Christmas! If you want the build up to not knowing, I'd suggest going back and reading that first.
> 
> John's brother Mark is on loan from potionsmaster. Kip is one of my other Shepards.

So dream when the day is through  
Dream, and they might come true  
Things never are as bad as they seem  
So dream, dream, dream. ~Johnny Mercer, _Dream_

When you’re going through hell, keep going. ~Winston Churchill

~~~~~

He remembers a movie he watched a long time ago with his parents and brothers: a man builds a time machine and sends it into the future, watching from the bubble of his safe singularity as the world erodes before his eyes. London feels like that now, only there’s no protective bubble to shield them from the horror. Humanity is being erased with a speed that drives him with an urgency that barely allows him to breathe or think about anything other than forward forward forward. By the time they’ve reached the FOB and the dust settles around his feet, he feels that all he’s ever known is pounding bombardments and the scream of Reapers.

A dread has been slowly building deep in his gut. He’s not able to deny anymore what he’s been pushing away now that the reality of what they’re facing is right in front of him.

Survival may not be an option.

The thought tightens his chest, pulls at memories that he doesn’t have time for, but can’t seem to push away: his brother Mark scuffing at his hair and calling him ‘Johnny’, scolding him not to tell when John finds him behind the shed smoking one of their dad’s cigarettes; his brother Kip grinning from ear to ear when their parents had given him a cowboy hat for Christmas (the unmarked present from the year before, a big box that had them all dead curious); his mother and he, dancing in the kitchen to Van Morrison, rocking in rhythm as she showed him how to sweat onions in the frying pan, peel garlic, deglaze the pan with wine; his father cursing ( _“Verdammt!”_ ) in the garage, a loud clang as a wrench hit the cement floor.

The ghosts of his family rise up from the ground and surround him (they’ve been gathering in his dreams, mingling with Legion and Mordin and Ashley and so many others he can’t even bare to think about) right there on the decimated streets of London. He blinks and chokes on the acid of war and no amount of willpower seems to be able to chase them away. It’s the first time in a long time that he allows himself to think about what might happen if he doesn’t succeed, if they don’t succeed. He wonders if his family is waiting for him, ready to drag him into the abyss and devour his scarred and weary soul. (And had they before? And had they let him go willingly, surprised one of their own was being pulled from them? He doesn’t remember and he wishes both that he could and that he will never.) For one brief moment he allows himself the luxury of the feeling of relief, not having to worry about the hard shock of reality that surrounds them.

Mortar fire wakes him from the trance and his family fades away, replaced by crumbling buildings and the chaos of war. He takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders, searching for the familiar in the midst of a busy military operation.

Blue armor, dusty and dented from their trek in from the landing zone, shines to him like a beacon. Kaidan’s eyes land on him, his smile weary. John knows Kaidan probably overused his biotics on their way here, that even now a migraine threatens at the back of Kaidan’s skull. But the other man pulls himself upright from where he’d been leaning against the wall to catch his breath. He steps forward and they meet in the middle, bumping foreheads.

“Hey.” Kaidan’s voice is husky and tired and John leans into the warmth of it, wants to surround himself with it.

“Hey.”

For a moment they rest against each other, two equal forces propping each other up through gravity alone.

Kaidan asks, “You doing okay?” and John nods, separating himself by only inches.

“You?”

“Yeah. I guess. I mean...As well as can be expected.” Kaidan blinks and John has to force himself to not get lost in his brown eyes. “I knew it would be bad. But not...not like this. I don’t know how these guys have managed all this time, fighting like hell.”

“Anderson has a way of inspiring his soldiers,” John says. “Somehow he’s managed to hold everyone together.”

“Yeah—”

“Commander!” Lieutenant Coats shouts from the building behind him. “Admiral Hackett on the comm!”

Shepard waves in acknowledgement and steps away, more than a little reluctantly. But Kaidan reaches out, touches his wrist. “Hey, uh…” He looks around, spies an alleyway nearby guarded by an old fashioned, bright red telephone box. “I just...There’s something I need to ask you. It’ll only take a minute.”

He can never say no to Kaidan. Especially not now, when he doesn’t know how much time they’ll have left together. So he nods and Kaidan leads him into the alley, takes him by the hand and they huddle together behind the red box. Kaidan fidgets and fumbles at a compartment in his armor, pulling out a small, velvet box that John instantly recognizes as the gift he’d given Kaidan at Christmas with instructions to not open until the next Yule. He’s made a small change to it, wrapping it in red ribbon, tying it off with a small bow.

“I, uh…” Kaidan’s fingers tremble, which reveals a glimmer of something silver caught in amongst the ribbon. “I want to open my present.” He looks up, shy and uncertain, and hands the box to Shepard.

John doesn’t take it right away. Instead, he stares at the ring that dangles, looped through the ribbon. It isn’t the ring that he knows lies nestled inside the box, but something different. Something beautiful and magical that calls to him with promises of the future, promises of happiness.

“Kaidan—”

“I swear I didn’t open it. But I have a pretty good idea what might be in there.” The man swallows, but doesn’t look away, holds his gaze like a lifeline. “John. I—” he nudges the box closer, takes Shepard’s hand in his and turns it, opens it so the box can set lightly in his palm. “I love you. Nothing will ever change that. Marry me.”

He has to remind himself to breathe, and then even when he does air catches in his lungs, gets caught in his throat.

“I don’t care if it’s official or not, John. Marry me. Right here. Right now. Just you and me in the middle of hell.” Kaidan takes a deep breath. “I need to...I need you to know there’s something after this. Something we can have together. Whenever that might be. If we… If we both—”

John cuts him off with a kiss, stopping him from saying what neither of them want to say or hear. It's quick and hard, their breath heavy between them. Kaidan's hand holds him at his neck, fingers tightening briefly before they break away. He studies the face of the man he loves, tries not to think he might be memorizing it to hold on one side of his brain as the other is occupied with destruction and horror. Nevertheless, he takes him all in: his brown eyes so full of love; the shade of stubble at his chin he wants to rub his mouth over lightly; his lips, slightly parted, slightly redder than usual from their kiss; the hair he wants to sink his hands into. _Kaidan_. When has he not been in love with this man? Surely he has always loved him, even before he knew him.

Shepard looks down at the box, the bright red ribbon nearly blinding him against the backdrop of gray cement and grit. He closes his fist around it and then pulls off one glove, transfers the box to his other hand and pulls off the other. They fall to the ground with a dull thud and he notices somewhere in the back of his thoughts that his hands are trembling. He touches the ring with a fingertip, his heart racing at the cool, smooth reality of it.

“Kaidan.” He looks up and sees nothing but love and acceptance, his life and his home. “I’ll marry you. Of course I’ll marry you.”

Kaidan’s smile nearly blinds him. And then he blushes, reaching out to take the box and tug at the ribbon, releasing the ring. He takes John’s hand, slides the metal over the knuckle of his ring finger. And then he draws his hand up, kisses his fingers, grinning and shy and sweet.

“You better open this,” John hands the box back. “Before I explode.”

Kaidan laughs and removes his own gloves, tucking them under his arm before he reaches for the box.

“Wait.” Shepard pulls the box back. “Just… Uh… Let's do this right.” He takes a step backwards, suppressing a groan when his joints ache as he takes a knee before his lover. His heart pounds heavy in his chest when he looks up to see Kaidan's surprised face, his eyes wide, one hand pressed to his lips.

“John—”

“Shh. Just.” He clears his throat and opens the box, the hinges creaking. Kaidan gasps, but maybe it's a sob. But he smiles and John didn’t think it possible that Kaidan’s smile could be any bigger, but it happens. His own cheeks ache with his grin and it seems impossible, right here and right now for that to happen. But it is. Dear god, how it is.

Shepard knows Kaidan’s hands well by now, the warmth of his fingers, the callouses that he rubs at lightly as he slips the ring on. “Do you take me to be your lawful wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward?” John breathes the words in a whisper, barely audible over gunning of machine engines around the corner.

Kaidan pulls him up into a tight hug, their armor clapping together. “As long as we both shall live,” Kaidan says in his ear. “Whether that's five minutes or fifty years. Everything in between and anything beyond. You're my heart, Johnathan Malachi Shepard.”

He doesn't want to let go. If he holds on, then he doesn't have to go back to war and death, doesn't have to think about _five minutes or fifty years_. He takes a deep breath. “I love you, Kaidan. So much.”

He rests his head on Kaidan’s shoulder and watches the red ribbon drift away on a breeze, waving brightly.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I know some of you have been wondering what was in the box. Hopefully, this settles it!
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
